


Of What's Inside

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam overhears Tommy singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of What's Inside

Adam knocks on the door of Tommy's hotel room three times and gets no answer. He's lost his absolute favorite body glitter, the stuff that stays on all night no matter how much he sweats and always shows up in the light of the lasers, and he _thinks_ he might have thrown it in Tommy's makeup bag accidentally. He better have, because the stuff will take a couple days to ship in and he _really_ doesn't want to do a show without it. Scowling, he steps back and wonders how hard it would be to kick the damn door in.

Luckily for everyone, he notices that the door isn't actually all the way shut _before_ he resorts to violence; it opens easily when he turns the handle. Inside, he scans the room for the makeup bag – thrown at the foot of the bed with the rest of Tommy's overnight stuff – and paws through it quickly. His glitter is there, right on top, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Then he rolls his eyes at himself for being such a diva and turns to go back to his own room.

It's a sound that stops him. Now that he's not entirely focused on his search and rescue mission, Adam notices the soft noise of running water coming out of the bathroom. He grins – Tommy's in the shower. Adam's in kind of a ridiculously good mood right now, and he creeps over to the bathroom door, wondering if Tommy has failed at locking it as much as he had the outer door. But no such luck – and besides, Adam thinks to himself, what exactly had he been planning to do anyway? Burst in on Tommy in the middle of his shower? That sounds like a good way to get punched...or at least bitched at. Loudly and often. As much as he likes teasing Tommy, and as far as their friendship/relationship (not really the right words at all, but Adam can't for the life of him decide what to call it) has come over the past few months, as comfortable as they are with each other, that would have been over the line. So it's just as well.

Just as he's starting to turn away one more time, though, another sound floats through the doorway, barely audible over the noise of the water. And Adam really should go, but it's just...it sounds familiar. _Really_ familiar. Curiosity peaked, he leans in and presses one ear against the door, trying to make out exactly what he's hearing. He closes his eyes and listens.

Tommy is _singing._ Adam puts a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggling – his stone-faced little goth boy sings in the shower! Who would have thought? And not only that, he's singing one of Adam's own songs. He knows it's one of his, recognizes it like he would the face of a family member, but he has to listen a bit longer to figure out which one specifically.

It's Sleepwalker - of course it's Sleepwalker. He should have known. Adam's face hurts he's grinning so hard, and he's practically melting into the door, trying to hear better. Tommy's on key, which doesn't surprise Adam in the least. He would bet his entire MAC bag that any member of his band could find a concert B flat in their sleep. Tommy's voice is clear if not very well supported, and it cracks and goes breathy on the high notes, but Adam's heard a whole lot worse, even from people claiming to be professionals.

Where the guitar break would be, Tommy sings the bass part...and Adam surprises himself. Apparently, he actually _can_ grin wider.

Adam's sitting on the bed when Tommy comes out the the bathroom. Tommy's wearing one of the hotel's ridiculously soft and fluffy white robes, and he's ruffling through his wet hair with one hand, as if he can't stand for it to be flat even for a minute. He catches sight of Adam and freezes.

"Adam? What are you...something wrong?" he asks, tightening the belt of his robe self-consciously.

Adam smirks. "Nope. Just enjoying the free concert," he says teasingly.

Tommy's eyes widen. "You could hear me? You dick!"

"Oh, it was cute! Maybe we should get you a microphone," Adam says, enjoying Tommy's reaction thoroughly.

But Tommy isn't laughing, isn't even getting all huffy and indignant like Adam thought he might. Instead, his face falls and he turns away, and Adam isn't sure, but he thinks he sees Tommy's eyes start to glisten a little more than usual. Instantly, Adam's smile is gone, and any trace of a playful mood disappears entirely.

He stands up and wraps Tommy in a bear hug from behind, burying his head into Tommy's shampoo-scented hair. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean...it really was cute. Didn't sound bad at all. Why so upset?" he asks, his tone low, gentle.

Tommy's face is kind of smushed into Adam's arms, and his answer is muffled. "Not a singer," he mutters, tense against Adam's body.

"Oh honey, I know. It's ok."

Tommy doesn't answer, and it takes Adam a while to get him to turn around and look at him. He's not crying, but he looks absolutely miserable.

Adam feels like the biggest asshole on the planet. "Tommy, baby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have listened," he says, wiping away an errant drop of water on Tommy's forehead as he speaks. His skin is shower-smooth and still warm, and his eyes are stripped bare of their usual shuttered expression, wide and fragile...and Adam recognizes old wounds when he sees them. And if there's one thing he knows about old wounds, it's that the best chance of healing them is when they've been laid wide open.

He starts humming quietly, not any particular tune, just making pleasant noises. Tommy gives him a little bit of a strange look, but he doesn't stop Adam and he doesn't try to pull away. Adam takes it as a good sign and keeps going, and they're actually kind of dancing now, in a weird way, Adam cradling Tommy's head in his hands, swaying back and forth to the music he makes, Tommy letting himself be moved. Slowly, Adam starts to move into his full voice, and he shouldn't be doing this - he's not supposed to be straining himself when it's not work-related. But singing is such a fundamental part of who he is, and suddenly all he can think about is being able to share that experience with Tommy, hearing their voices blend and mingle into something completely new.

It's a slow process, but Adam goes where the music leads him, still no words, just full-throated syllables tripping away into the ether, and Tommy's face starts to relax, starts to look more like the Tommy Adam knows. It's the most beautiful feeling in the world, Adam thinks – being able to make people happy just by doing what he loves. And he can't hold back any more, just grasps at the words that seem to make the most sense, even though they're not what's written in the songbook.

"Wanna sing out, no more hiding..."

Tommy bites his lip, and he's flushing even more deeply now than when he had first stepped out of the hot shower, and Adam grins.

"Come on, baby," he says, and then sings the line again, not showing off, just simple melody, pure tone. "Wanna sing out, no more hiding..."

Tommy shakes his head and bows it down toward the floor, but Adam can see him glancing up through his eyelashes, like he just can't help it. He reaches out and takes Tommy's chin in one hand, gently easing his head back up, and he can't believe how fast his heart is beating right now. Adam's had his tongue down Tommy's throat, but this still feels like the most intimate thing they've ever done.

He telegraphs the timing to Tommy, using the same nod he does to signal the band during rehearsals, and hopes all the way to his core that Tommy might join in.

"Wanna sing out..." And there he is, his voice trembling, almost buried by Adam's strength. Adam's instinct is to drop down, match Tommy's volume, but he knows from experience that's exactly the wrong direction to go. Instead, he breathes deep and lets his power voice come out, shoring Tommy's hesitant notes up against the silence. "...no more hiding."

And Tommy's grinning now, that beautiful smile that reaches every corner of his face, and Adam feels like the sun has just broken over the horizon for the very first time. He leads Tommy through the rest of the lyrics, keeping to the melody, secretly thrilled that Tommy knows the words just as well as he does, though why this comes as a surprise he doesn't know.

By the end of the song, Tommy is doing his best to match Adam's voice, balance it out with his own, and what he lacks in training he makes up for with sheer enthusiasm. He even strikes out on his own, segueing back into – what else? – Sleepwalker, and Adam laughs and keeps singing.

Somehow they make their way to the bed, and Adam peels the robe from Tommy's body, and he lays Tommy out on the bed and sings the lines of his body, long, sustained pitches for the planes of his torso, swirling chromatics for the spirals of his ears, heavy vibrato when he takes Tommy's cock into his mouth. And Tommy, amazing, beautiful Tommy, echoes Adam's song, a response to Adam's call, a countermelody of pure pleasure.

Adam's voice is hoarse by the time he finishes, coming to spoon up behind Tommy, still fully dressed, but he doesn't regret a single note. And just as he's drifting off to sleep, he hears a voice piercing the silence, small but strong.

"Wanna sing out...no more hiding. Wanna sing out...no more hiding."


End file.
